She Remembers
by Girl Who Writes
Summary: She’s lost a mother, a father and a brother... a whole family she only ever had in pieces.


**Title:** She Remembers  
**Author:** Girl Who Writes  
**Disclaimer:** The characters featuring in this fic belong to J.J Abrams  
**Summary:** She's lost a mother, a father and a brother; a whole family she only ever had in pieces.  
**Characters:** Shannon, Boone  
**Rating:** G.  
**Distribution:** Ask, please.  
**Author's Notes:** Written for Childhood Memories challenge at livejournal. My first attempt at Shannon, so I hope my characterisation isn't too off. I hope you like it!

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She remembers a life when she had a mother.

She had a mother with soft blonde hair, just like hers. She remembers sitting on her parents' bed, watching her mother sitting at her dressing table. The bed used to smell of lilacs and baby powder. Her mother would call her over, and she would toddle over, to be lifted into her Mama's lap and have her mother brush her hair with the brushes and let baby Shannon touch her Mama's pearl necklace.

She remembers a summer spent on the beach, her mother sitting in the sand, calling out for her to smile for the camera. And then her mother would hand her father the camera and pull baby Shannon into her arms and put her huge sunhat on Shannon's head and she'd squeal with laughter. And the photograph would be taken.

She remembers one or two birthday parties, with balloons and presents and light and laughter. Maybe she's filled in the gaps over time; things she thinks could've happened and made it into a memory that she keeps close just to remind herself of a time when things weren't so complicated.

She remembers a life when she had a father.

A father who looked grey when she watched him, and tried to fill the space her mother left with presents and holidays to exotic locales where he would be in meetings all day and she would be left with the French nanny. She didn't know the words to tell her father she didn't need anything but his time.

She remembers a father who called her, "Princess" and put all the photographs of her mother in a box, and hid it in his desk drawer. She remembers that her nanny took her to her mother's funeral, and that her father didn't look for her when she hid at the reception.

She remembers a father who took her out for ice cream and asked her if she would like an older brother, the same way he asked her if she would like a bicycle. She didn't want either of them, and told him so. He laughed it off like she was making a joke.

She wasn't. She really didn't want a brother.

She remembers a life with an older brother.

She remembers the wedding, where she cried because she had to stay with Sabrina, because they were both girls. She remembers Sabrina staring blankly at her and someone going, "that's the step daughter."

She remembers watching all the beautiful ladies dancing to the music, and being told to "sit still," itching to dance.

"Hi, Shannon."

He was tall back then, too - Tall and skinny and shy. He grinned at her without restraint and she felt herself smiling back. "I'm Boone Carlisle."

She remembers Boone untying a pink balloon from the chair for her, and dancing with her when she asked. She remembers laughing out loud and asking him if he had a bicycle. It seemed important at the time. She remembers Boone teaching her to ride his bicycle, teaching her to play video games, showing her how his life was.

She remembers Christmases, birthdays, holidays, arguments, hospital trips… sometimes with her father, other times with Sabrina or the nanny, but always with Boone.

She remembers he took her to his Prom because she wanted to be the only Sophomore to be at the Prom. He always kept their Prom picture with him, on his desk; Shannon in her long pink dress, her arms around Boone's neck, smiling.

She remembers losing a brother.

It was long before John Locke killed him, too. It was after her father died. She remembers the light on in the kitchen of their house, creeping down in her nightdress. She remembers Sabrina crying so hard she could barely catch her breath, Boone's hand on his mother's shoulder, murmuring soothingly in his mother's ear.

And she remembers falling to the floor, her hands clawing at her own face and realising Boone hadn't caught her, and that there was no one left. She disregards that it was Boone who held her up at the funeral, and it was Boone who hit under the tables with her at the reception not knowing why, but understanding.

She thought she forgave him that night, when he held her and promised her that he'd look after her for as long as she needed. She remembers running to France, to Italy, to Australia with a trust fund full of money and a heart full of hurt. She could make up all sorts of reasons to hate Boone inside her head, but she was running from herself.

She touches the dirt on the grave tentatively and grips Vincent's leash tighter. The dog sits beside her, content to wait quietly.

She'd like to think they were brought to the island to make them closer when that's the exact opposite to what happen. She lost him the day they crashed here.

She wraps her arms around herself and sits back. She never imagined not having him to look after her, she never imagined him not hovering in the corner of her life, reading to fly to her rescue at a moment's notice.

She's lost a mother, a father and a brother; a whole family she only ever had in pieces.

She lets herself cry then. Cry for the fact she's got a life without a mother, without a father, without a brother. She cries for every heroic act Boone ever pulled. She cries for a forgotten Prom photograph somewhere far away, and she cries for the little girl who liked her new big brother enough to want a bicycle.

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End file.
